Resolve
by Pheo
Summary: A new year, with new beginnings. GSR, WCR, NOC, and general unabashed, disgusting fluf. Response to the Ubound Forum challenge. First and last lines provided with 1,000 words in between.


Resolve

By Pheo

1.1.05

**Summary**: Response to the weekly Unbound forum challenge. First and last lines are provided, with a maximum of 1,000 words in between. Total sap story, I'm deeply ashamed. Okay, maybe not that deeply. The first time I've gone over a word limit--I hope it's okay! Hey, anybody out there who reads these things know how to get itallics to show up on ?

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Rating**: PG

**Spoilers**: Sure

**It was a quarter to twelve, just minutes away from the start of another new year.** In the DNA lab, Greg Sanders ran a suspect's blood sample beneath a compound microscope, and grinned over the slide at the new lab tech.

Match.

He threw his arms over his head and bobbed up and down to a happy dance, a muted but nonetheless bright echo of old antics. Flashing a thumbs-up at a bemused Mia, he grabbed his results and sauntered off.

The past year had been difficult. His fledgling position on the night shift had been in jeopardy from the start when he couldn't find a decent replacement. He had been lucky with Mia. While he still needed to guide her every once in a while, and while she needed a bit of work in the time management department, she was really terrific. Better than he had been at her age, he knew.

Then he had to contend with more problems than he had ever thought possible. Who had known that taking a whiz at a crime scene would have been such a disaster? _I mean, who is supposed to know that? Somebody should write a manual on that crap._

And the tension between the team was unbelievable!Everyone knew about the friendly competition between Nick and Warrick, but he had never guessed it could get so fierce--or so personal. Catherine, whom he had thought of as a kind of weirdly hot surrogate mother, turned out to live up to the nickname she repulsed-- "cat." Grissom... Well, Grissom was Grissom, and he had expected that. He didn't have nightmares about the greying bug man after double shifts for nothing.

And Sara--sweet Sara Sidle, whom he'd been infatuated with since her first day in Vegas when she managed to incorporate the words spandex, tapioca, and DNA in the same sentence... He still didn't know why she was so sad all of the time, but the bright, witty physicist that he'd met years ago seemed to be gone. Perhaps it was because she was even more alienated from the team than he was.

Hewould think about that later, though. So far, tonight had been a piece of cake. He hadn't needed to page Sara, his unofficial mentor, for anything--a new record for him. In addition to the DNA match, he had plenty of physical evidence for this murder, and it was taking him very little time. He knew to backtrack and make sure that he'd covered his tracks, but he was pretty sure that this one was in the bag. He couldn't wait to fill out the paperwork on it.He could already see the guarded approval in Grissom's eyes. _Good work, Greg_...

Waltzing into the breakroom, he smelled a fresh pot of Hawaiian Blue--and it was untouched! Whoever had broken into his secret stash must have forgotten about it. Grinning-- and making a mental note to seek out a new hiding spot-- he grabbed his favorite cup.Listening to the rest of the lab count down to the new year, he took a gulp and gave an appreciative sigh.

This was the beginning of an awesome year!

Nick Stokes yawned on his way to a routine breaking and entering. He blinked through the monotomy of his windshield wipers, his head bobbing in rhythm with the squeaks. While the phrase "crime never stops" was an understatement across the nation, it seemed like in Vegas it wasn't even worth thinking. Who had time to think? He couldn't remember the last night he'd had off when he had not been called in.

While he enjoyed the overtime, and the experience didn't hurt, Nick had put a lot of things on hold this year to win a promotion that wasn't-- two weddings, a family reunion, even the birth of his new cousin. Now that he had done so much for what seemed like nothing-- _Hell, it is nothing--_ he really didn't feel like living at the job. He'd leave that kind of thing for Grissom, and maybe Sara.

Something bright flashed in front of his eyes. He squinted through the downpour to see a silver Dodge begin to hydroplane. It slid off the road with a screeching twist and slammed head-first into a telephone pole.

He quickly pulled to the side of the road and ran over to the accident. There wasn't much damage to the car, but the driver, a young woman, was visibly shaken. She stepped out from the car and wobbled, grabbing the driver side door for support. Wild blue eyes stared at him from behind a mess of tangled blond hair, and she had a small cut on her forhead.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Nick Stokes, I'm with the city crime lab. Are you hurt?" He leaned in to peer at the cut and noticed that she was wearing a white coat with a badge on it. _Margaret Hunter_, _M.D._ He reached to help her sit back down, and when their hands crossed, something shocked him. _Static--?_

His eyes jumped to hers and surprise looked back at him.

"Yes.. No. Oh God, I shouldn't have been driving, but they needed all hands on deck-- I'm sure you understand that, being from the crime lab..." She continued to babble as a blush creeped over her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm Maggie Hunter. Thanks for stopping. Excuse me." He stared in disbelief as she pulled out her cellphone.

_Shouldn't have been driving?_ She didn't appear to be under any kind of influence, but he knew that usually meant one thing. "Ma'am--"

She waved her hand at him as she spoke into her phone.

"Hello, Karen? It's Maggie. Yeah, I was on my way in but I had an accident. I'm fine, thanks hon, but I gotta call a tow truck. I'm going to try to make it in--" she rose her eyebrows at Nick. "I know, hon, but you guys are really short and with Ted on vacation you're going to need another pair of hands. Naw, I'm used to doubles like this. I'll see you shortly."

She smiled apologetically. "Sorry, but they really need me. As far as getting checked out, well," she grinned, "I can have that done at work. Think you can give me a lift to Desert Palms?"

He poked his tongue in his cheek and appeared to think it over. Her eyes sparkled at him. "I could call a taxi, of course."

He gave her a full grin. "Ma'am, where I come from, a gentleman never leaves a lady in distress."

On the way to the hospital, she got her tow truck and he got her number. After waving goodbye and agreeing to meet for coffee later in the week, Nick felt a bit brighter. Calling dispatch to let them know what happened, he was surprised to hear the lightness in his own voice. He flipped on the radio and began singing along-- something he hadn't done in quite a while. When the DJ announced a happy new year to his listeners, Nick gave a good, old fashioned Texas whoop.

It was the beginning of a fantastic year!

Sitting in a pair of worn, fuzzy pink slippers and a silky kimono, Catherine Willows sipped a foamy hot chocolate as she watched the countdown to the new year on television. It was the first New Year's Eve she'd had off in years and she was determined to enjoy its quiet comforts in her home. A new year...

She stared at the people drinking and laughing at Time's Square and thought back to the days when she herself would have been doing the same thing. She remembered a particularly wild New Year's party at some musician's house where she had gotten drunk and danced on top of a glass table with two other girls. The table had collapsed beneath the stomping of imposibly high heels and all three of them had begun the new year with stitches.

She shook her head. A social creature at heart, she had grown to appreciate this solitude. She had made many mistakes in her life-- _Lord knows I make 'em every day--_ but she was determined to make sure Lindsay had a better life than the one she'd had herself.

She closed her eyes thinking of Lindsay. The girl couldn't understand why her mother wouldn't let her see her grandfather. Catherine refused to cloud the girl's childhood with any more baggage. She'd been through enough. After many years passed, she would tell her when the time was right; at the moment, she needed a bit more stability in her life.

At that moment her young daughter came in with two friends in tow. The three were the epitome of New Year's sleepovers with their hats, noisemakers, and traces of silly string in their hair. "Happy new year," they chimed, spraying Catherine with a bit of green string.

She jumped, crying out and laughing. She hadn't realized that the ball had dropped while she'd been lost in thought. "You girls!" She threw a pillow at Lindsay who laughed and threw it back. "Let's go watch the fireworks!"

She threw on her terry cloth robe and sat on the porch as the girls ran around the yard, blowing into their noisemakers and spraying each other with remnants of clumpy string. She watched the colors explode, making unconcious wishes for the year with each one.

_Let Lindsay be happy at school. I hope she grows to appreciate social studies--and her freckles! I hope she lives every day with her heart and not those of her friends. I hope that she knows how smart, how resiliant she is. I hope I can spend more time with her this year. I hope she knows how much I love her. _

She watched the girls chase each other. One of them had gotten a pot out and was hitting it with a spatula. She laughed, clapping her hands and hollering with them. Lindsay smiled at her. She blew her one of their old windy kisses, the ones that they would catch when nobody was looking. She didn't expect Lindsay to catch it in front of her friends, let alone blow one back.

Lindsay winked at her. Through that thick black eye liner, her eyes danced at her mother, and Catherine knew she would be okay. As the girl turned to twirl with her friends, Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat and sighed with gratitude.

She heard the phone ring and her heart gave a leap. _Please don't be work_.

Grabbing the phone, she smiled softly at the caller ID. "Happy New Year."

Singing drunks and generally loopy people waltzed past the windows of the liquer store as Warrick Brown dusted the counter for prints. Glancing at the crowd, then at the owner's glare, Warrick gave an inward sigh and continued to spread print powder. This was no time to think about being where he wanted to be. The owner had been robbed hours ago, but Warrick had had to wrap up another case before heading in. Now, the guy was irritated and wanted Warrick to know it.

"So, you think you can still catch the punks? Or does the city have time for helping taxpayers?"

Warrick bit his lip and counted to five before responding. "Sir, I understand your anger and I'll do my best to find the people who did this."

"Oh, you understand now? You're a counselor, is that it? Do my tax dollars pay for that, or is it extra?" The sweaty little bald man crossed his arms as his face reddened.

Warrick set his brush aside and stood to his full height, staring straight into the man's eyes. "If you like, I can send somebody else to finish this, but I'm sure that it won't be until tomorrow. This city doesn't sleep." His jaw ticked and the man cringed as Warrick's eyes flashed angrily at him.

"No...that's not neccessary. Look, I gotta work on New Year's too. And the rent here doesn't come cheap, ya know. I just... Sorry, man." The man bowed his head and swallowed.

Warrick cursed, immediately ashamed. He was used to encountering people on the worst day of their lives--why was this guy any different? "I'm sorry, too. It's just a busy time of the year and we're all pretty much working doubles, you know?"

The man didn't look convinced. He nodded mutely, looking as if the CSI had sent him to the corner.

Warrick shrugged and picked up his brush again. He wondered where his cool had gone. He used to be good at this. Now... Maybe he just needed a vacation. That souned nice. Somewhere tropical... "So, where would you be if you could be anywhere tonight?" Rolling his eyes at his cheap misdirection, he was surprised to hear the man respond.

"I'd be at home with my daughter, Theresa. She's twelve." He took out his wallet and showed Warrick her picture.

"Oh, she's gonna be a heartbreaker!" Warrick said, and it was probably true.

"Yeah. Got her mama's eyes." The man glanced up from the photo. "Never knew her ma. Died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Saved Theresa, though, and I'll be thankful for that every day."

Warrick felt his mouth go dry. The worst day of this man's life had happened twelve years ago. "Must be tough."

"Yeah, but she's a tough kid, too. She even plays football with the guys," the man smiled fondly, sliding his wallet back into his pocket.

Warrick lifted the last of his prints. "Gotta be tough for her old man, too."

The guy gave a rough laugh. "Yeah, that too. When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and you don't have much time with her, you realize how important that time is, you know?" He shook his head. "I was there. I told her I loved her as she died, and I saw it in her eyes. She knew. If anything, I've got that to hold onto."

Warrick closed his eyes for a moment. He stood again, packing up his things. He took off his glove and held his hand out. " Here's my card if you think of anything else, sir. I'll get back to you as soon as possible." He shook the man's hand. "Happy new year to you and your daughter."

The man smiled. "Happy new year. And thanks. Don't work too hard." They both gave a chuckle to this, and Warrick left the store.

On the way to the lab, he hit the first speed dial button on his cellphone. "Hey. Happy new year to you. Whatcha doing? Oh yeah? What, the pink ones? God, I knew I should've gotten you a new pair for Christmas. Yeah, back at you. How is she? Really? Sounds like fun. Yeah, I'll check and after I wrap this up I'll be on my way. Want anything? The peach kind? Of course! Yeah, sure. Okay. I love you too. Bye."

He thought of what he had to go home to, what he had to be grateful for, and watching the fireworks light light up above him, he knew it was going to be a great year.

Sara Sidle felt a pang in her chest as she watched Grissom speak quietly to Sofia. As they circled the scene of the double homicide, she couldn't help but think back to times when he would do the same with her. Sofia said something and Grissom chuckled softly. Sara blinked hard and turned back to her parameter--something she had gotten accostomed to doing in her sleep.

She sifted through the victims' files that were splayed across the floor. Someone had been looking for something. _Aren't we all_. This year she didn't know what exactly she'd been looking for, but she'd found a lot of heartbreak.

_Between my drinking, my parents, my social hang-ups, and my unrequited love for an obtuse old man, I could probably go on Springer for something._

She shook her head ruefully as she bagged a land deed with a missing signature. If she had been told that this year would have happened four years ago, she would have laughed. Sara Sidle, lose control? Sara Sidle, the straight-A Harvard graduate, protégé of the renowned Gil Grissom, physicist extraordinaire, get pulled over for a DUI? She barked a laugh at the very thought of it all.

Grissom looked over at the sad young woman sorting through evidence. He wondered where the vibrant CSI he had known as Sara Sidle had gone. This woman, with her baggy eyes and thin arms, wasn't the woman he remembered badgering him at a forensic seminar.

Sophia said something about killing two birds with one stone and Grissom gave the expected laugh, though softly, as he hadn't heard what she'd said. The blond CSI looked up at him adoringly, and Grissom continued to work, clueless.

Sara stuffed the bags into a box and announced, "I'm gonna finish up outside if you guys have the rest here." She shuffled out without waiting for a reply.

"Need some help with that box?" Grissom called. The only answer he received was the door slamming shut.

"She's got issues," Sofia remarked as she continued to talk her way through the scene.

"At least she doesn't talk to herself," Grissom muttered, closing his case.

Sofia spun around. "Gil--"

He held up a hand. "Go ahead and finish the collection here. I'm going to help with the outside." He left before she could protest.

He found Sara carefully molding the footprints she'd found by the back door. It had begun to rain and she had draped a makeshift tarp over the prints with her rain jacket and some sticks. It had seemed to work for the prints but she was getting soaked. He quickly took his own jacket off and squatted, draping it over the both of them. He gasped as his knees creaked, but she didn't hear it.

"I'm okay, Griss, really," she insisted, pushing on him a bit.

"Sara--" he started, but did not finish as he toppled over from his precarious squat. He landed butt-first into the mud, splattering them both.

"Oh my god, Grissom, I'm so sorry--" she exclaimed. "Here, let me help you."

As she reached for his hand, she began to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, spread over the mud with his legs wide apart and his glasses down his nose. _Adorable, too_. _Adorable but ridiculous nonetheless!_

She snorted, then lost it, covering her mouth and laughing uncontrollably, all thoughts of helping him up lost. "Oh- my- God," she gasped, tears running down her face. "You look so--"

The momentary joy at her laughter was replaced by his wounded ego, and Grissom yanked her down into the mud with him. "You were saying, Miss Sidle?"

She let out a yelp as she hit the mud. It splattered her face in a spew of pebbled freckles, and the image combined with her surprised, gap-toothed open smile did Grissom in. He cupped her face with his hand and leaned in to kiss her.

She immediately pulled back-- _Oh no, not this time_!-- but as his lips folded over hers she felt hersefl reach up to mirror the gesture. Leaning in, she felt his hands in her hair, on her neck, across her back. She breathed him in, determined to memorize this smell, this taste, because she knew it would never happen again. She could feel a heart pounding in her ears and couldn't really tell if it was his or her own. A heat rose in her chest as his mouth moved over her own, down her chin, over her neck.

He couldn't taste enough of her. It was as if she were going to disappear any moment and he had to have all of her immediately. He couldn't get over how Sara, his Sara, was in his arms right now, kissing him back-- _she's kissing me back!_-- with such passion, so deeply, with her hands buried in his hair, right here at a crime scene--

Crime scene?

_God, this can't be happening--_ and then the downpour saved him from ending their embrace.

"Griss, get the mold!" Sara scrambled to lift out the molds that she had made. "Thank God we got these before the rain!"

He nodded, still dazed, as he helped her lift the last mold and they ran together to the SUV. They hurridly tucked everything safely in the back and ran to sit inside.

"We're getting the interior of your car muddy," she said softly, watching as the New Year's fireworks display began, despite the rain.

"It's the county's car, they'll pay for it," he replied unevenly, staring ahead himself.

They both realized what was happening and turned toward each other. "Happy new year," they both blurted.

Sara laughed. "Ah, Griss... What just happened back there?"

He thought for a moment and said, "The fireworks started. It's a new year, Sara."

She stared at him. "Grissom, we can't just--" She threw her arms into the air. "This is insane. We're barely friends right now. How could you kiss me?"

He frowned. How could he have? And at a crime scene, at that. "I don't know, Sara. But I do know that I don't like not being friends. I'd like to be friends again." _I'd like to see you again--not this ghost of you. And I'd like to kiss you again..._

She looked down at her hands, then back up again. Smiling, she said, "Well, it is the traditional time for resolutions."

An opening. Finally, he was getting it. "I resolve to try and get our friendship back."

She was radiant and he could see her again--Sara Sidle, physics goddess and keeper of his heart. "Me too."

He reached down to hold her hand and was delighted when she squeezed his fingers. Maybe this year would be better. They could make it better together. If anything, he would see to it that she would stay herself. He vowed to make sure that Sara Sidle would see much happiness in the year to come. He lifted her hand to his lips and promised that he would be her friend--and once he had that, he would work on more.

She could see him thinking and didn't want to ruin the feeling of his hand over hers by speaking. She continued to watch the bursts of color above them, wondering what the year would hold. _It can't get much worse_! She idly stroked Grissom's hand, vowing that this year would house his last chance. She couldn't go on like this; she deserved better than this and they both knew it.

Grissom could follow through with his resolution and she would see where it would lead. If he came through-- _something most Americans didn't do with their resolutions--_ maybe they'd have hope. If not, well, she'd wait and see. When and if that time came, she would move on. She resolved that for the first time in her life, she'd put Sara first. If Grissom followed or not... _Well, that would depend on him_.

She smiled wistfully as **the last of the fireworks displayed their brilliance in the sky.**


End file.
